Beautiful, Bloodthirsty Betrayal
by TerraBerra
Summary: Harry meets a girl the summer after his godfather dies. But is she who she seems? Her little brother doesn't seem to think so ... unrelated to my other stories. My first try at romance, so any advice would be greatly appreciated.
1. Moping

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters belong to JK Rowling.

A/N: Lousy title. I know this is ... cliched, to say the least. And it's a really bad chapter (hence the "overly creative" chapter title. But hang in there, it'll get better, I promise. This is my first try at a romance, so any advice would be greatly appreciated.

Chapter 1 – Moping

Harry Potter had lived at Number Four, Privet Drive for fifteen years, and he had not much longer to go before he could finally be rid of his dreadful relatives for good. By the middle of next summer, he'd be able to live on his own.

Harry liked to visit the nearby playground often, where he could just sit in peace without thinking, where he was alone … Those were the best times. When he was with the family, he was reminded far too often of his godfather, how Sirius … Comparing his late father's late best friend to his aunt and uncle over mealtimes was simply unbearable.

But Harry couldn't go to the playground often. Aunt Petunia had, for the first time in three years, decided to keep him in the house all summer. He knew why this was, Dumbledore, his headmaster, had explained it all to him three weeks ago, how he was safe from Voldemort wherever his mother's spilt blood still lived on, like in her sister, his aunt. But knowing this didn't make him feel any happier about it.

Dumbledore had also told Harry why Voldemort had tried to kill him as a baby and was still after him – Harry was the only thing standing between Voldemort and ultimate power. During most of Harry's sixteen years, the wizarding community had lived in a state of tentative peace between two wars. According to the articles Rita Skeeter now wrote in the _Daily Prophet_, the second war had finally, after years of waiting, begun.

This meant that Harry was in more danger now than ever before. Which was why his aunt wanted him to stay inside the house the whole summer – to keep him safe.

Harry couldn't figure out why the same woman who had tried to make his life miserable for nearly ten years was all of a sudden so concerned for him. Perhaps a new love for her dead sister had awakened in her, perhaps she felt Harry's presence would protect her family as much as his own.

In any case, living in the Dursley household made for a long and boring summer.

Harry was in his bedroom, gazing longingly out the open window into the brilliance outside. He hadn't felt sunshine on his face in weeks …

And then there was the matter of the men who kept haunting his every waking moment. One, of course, was Voldemort. The second was Cedric Diggory, a boy only a little older than Harry was now who had been killed at Voldemort's rebirth a year ago. The third was his father, James. Harry imagined his father would be disappointed with the way he was acting now. He hadn't written properly to either Ron or Hermione, his best friends, since the beginning of the summer. He knew they'd be worried about him, but he couldn't bring himself to write to them, to address the issue he knew they were thinking about.

That issue had the face of the final man who was haunting his every waking and sleeping moment: his godfather, Sirius Black.

Sirius Black. The veil … fluttering as though a high wind had flitted through the underground dungeon … a look of shock on his face as he tumbled backwards … his eyes had caught Harry's, had tried to express so much in that last second, yet they had left out so much.

Harry pulled a piece of parchment towards him and scribbled down that thought. _… eyes had caught Harry's, had tried to express so much in that last second, yet they had left out so much._

He tore off that scrap of parchment, ripped off a piece of Spellotape, and taped the parchment to the wall beside his bed, next to other memories, thoughts, pictures, and drawings of his godfather. Memory Wall. Memorial. A Memorandum to Sirius Black. Farewell.

Slowly, painfully, Harry straightened up and sat back down at his desk, once more facing the outside.

He ought to tidy up his room, it was getting very messy. He ought to take a shower, he hadn't washed at all that week. He ought to … he ought to …

Harry folded his arms on top of the desk and rested his head heavily on them with a sigh.

That was when the unthinkable happened.

Harry's wand, lying on the back edge of the desk, had toppled out the open window, landing two stories down in the bushes below.

* * *

A/N: This is (like I said before) my first romance, so bear with me, please! I have a whole bunch of other stories up at my other account, TeeBee, so don't worry if I can't post very often. Leave a review? Pretty please?


	2. Meeting Lanie

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters belong to JK Rowling.

Chapter 2 – Meeting Lanie

Harry gazed out the window at the lawn below, appalled. What was he supposed to do without his wand? If Voldemort or any of the Death Eaters tried anything …

On the other hand, how could he go outside now – _now?_ – and risk everything, his own life and millions of other lives as well, just to get a skinny sliver of wood?

"I walk outside to get the wand, and get cursed," he muttered to himself, if only to hear the sound of his own voice, so rarely used nowadays. "Or I can stay inside and rely on the … blood protection. But this is so stupid – I'll have to fight Voldemort sooner or later, and then I'll need my wand … Right, I'm going."

And he turned and marched purposefully out the door and down the stairs.

He glared around the tidy living room, daring his aunt to see him trying to leave the house and forbidding it.

_Just come on over_, he thought as he crept towards the door. _Just you try it_!

And she did.

"Harry Potter, WHAT do you think you are doing?" his aunt shrieked, storming into the room. "You're not allowed out of the house, I will not get into trouble with those … those _people_ over you, you can just march yourself right back upstairs, young man!"

Harry was gaping open mouthed at Aunt Petunia when the doorbell rang. Dudley came crashing down the stairs, running to answer the door, but Harry was closer and beat him to it.

A vaguely familiar girl stood on the opposite side of the door, wearing a white sweatshirt and tight jeans. Her brown hair was swept back into a long ponytail. Both boys slowed to a halt, panting slightly.

"Hello … Harry?" the girl asked.

"What do you want with Harry?" Dudley asked in a hurt tone.

"I have something that belongs to him," she answered smoothly. "You're Harry, then?"

"Yeah … yeah, I'm Harry," Harry said, nudging his cousin with his foot. _Just get out of the way_ …

"You sure you don't want to talk to me?" Dudley was staring at the girl with a rapt expression. It was all Harry could do to keep from laughing. He was so … so _stupid_!

"Quite," the girl replied. "Harry, could you come outside for a second?"

"Uh," Harry muttered, throwing a worried glance over his shoulder to where Aunt Petunia stood, shaking her head disapprovingly in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen. "No, I can't come out right now … Go away, Dudley."

Dudley glared at him and stepped hard on Harry's toes, but turned around sulkily and trumped back up the stairs – back to his video game player.

"Sorry about –"

"Never mind him," the girl interrupted. "I'm Lanie Peters … I live next door …? Anyway, I saw you dropped this and I thought you might like it back."

And incredibly, she placed Harry's wand back into his hand.

"I – thanks," Harry said brightly, sticking it into his back pocket despite Mad-Eye Moody's warning about exploding buttocks.

The girl was smiling oddly at him. "And … you're Harry Potter, aren't you? No," she blushed, "I know you're Harry Potter, but I mean you're THE Harry Potter!"

"Uh … I guess so," Harry muttered. How did she know he was THE Harry Potter?

"Guess I should explain, huh?" Lanie said, smiling. She lowered her voice, so Aunt Petunia wouldn't be able to hear them. "I'm a witch as well."

Harry pursed his lips. "I'm not a witch."

"Wizard, then. I go to Beauxbatons, you know what …?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "I met some people there, Fleur Delacour, d'you know her?"

"That veela girl?" Lanie asked. "Sure, I know her. _Everyone_ knows her."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah … anyway, I heard Sirius Black was killed a couple weeks ago. They haven't found his body yet … must be a relief, huh? He's been after you for about three years now, right?"

Harry tensed up. "Sirius was innocent," he snapped, his temper flaring.

Lanie stared at him in horror. "Oh – no, I'm so sorry, I knew he was your – well, so I cam to give you your wand back … tell Dudley to keep away from me, all right?" she said with a brave attempt at a grin. Harry resisted the urge to clam the door at her back; he forced himself to close it softly.

* * *

Later, up in his room, Harry didn't know why he had gotten so mad at Lanie. True, she disliked Sirius, but then, who in the wizarding world didn't besides himself, Ron, Hermione, and most of the Order members? And wasn't she his only chance for a decent conversation around here? And wasn't she gorgeous?

Harry sent off his usual "I'm Fine, Love Harry" letter to Number Twelve, Grimmould Place, but then set out to pen a longer letter to Ron.

"_Dear Ron_,

"_How long does it take to get over a girl? Should I be over Cho already? Cuz I've met someone – she's gorgeous, gorgeous, _gorgeous_! She lives right next door, imagine that! I've only seen her once, but it was enough."_

On a sudden impulse, Harry crossed the room to his trunk and after digging through it for a few minutes he found what he had been looking for. Grabbing the Omnioculars, Harry whirled back around to the window and focused on Lanie's room.

"_I'm staring into her room right now,_" he wrote to Ron. "_It's painted blue with a little purple, and she's got pictures of butterflies all over it."_

He watched through the Omnioculars as a small boy opened the door to Lanie's bedroom tentatively, then, seeing it vacant, headed for a box on Lanie's desk.

"_Her brother's in there now,_" he wrote, "_snooping. He's pulled out her diary._" The boy looked suddenly up at Harry. Harry dropped the Omnioculars hurriedly and returned his gaze to the parchment.

"_She's really sweet too_," he added. "_So what's going on by you? Anything new happening? Write me back,_

"_Love, Harry._"

It was amazing how a two-minute meeting with Lanie could have him writing more to Ron in one afternoon than he'd written to anyone the whole summer.

Harry laid down his quill and looked back out the window. Lanie's was open. He saw that she was now back in her bedroom, so he opened his own window in order to hear what she was saying.

"… you little brat!"

"But I wanted to see what you wrote about H-"

Lanie shoved him onto her bed and glanced at the window with a frightened look. Harry quickly ducked beneath his desk, but he knew she had seen him. In a lower voice that he nonetheless heard, Lanie said, "As soon as Mum gets back you'll be in _big trouble_, Mark!"

"I'll just tell her who you were talking to," he answered back smugly. "She said you weren't allowed to – "

"Shut up and get out!" Lanie cried. Harry heard a small scuffle, the slamming of a door, and then Lanie's voice calling, "You can come out now, Harry."

Harry straightened up and waved at her. "Just doing a little cleaning," he said. "It's really messy in here."

Lanie grinned. "Ooookaaaay … Hey listen, Harry, I was wondering if you wanted to meet me at the park tomorrow … around three?"

"I don't know," Harry replied immediately. "My aunt – I'm sort of grounded."

"So am I," Lanie said dismissively. "No biggie. It's not hard to sneak out. What d'you say? Meet me there?"

Harry thought of Dumbledore's warnings, of Sirius's constant reminders to stay in the house last summer, of the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He thought of Lanie, and her brown hair and her green eyes.

"I – I'll think about it," he called back. "Tell you tomorrow?"

"Okay," Lanie called. "No pressure." She sent another charming grin his way.

"Goodnight, Harry!"

And she slammed the window shut.

* * *

A/N: Don't go berserk over the "love, Harry" thing, I'm sure we've all write "love" when we're writing to our friends ...

Okay, please leave a review and let me know how I'm doing! Thanks to everyone who's reading this!


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